


when i watch the world burn (all i think about is you)

by teenytabris



Series: hold onto me (i'm a little unsteady) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Becca Barnes is a Bisexual Legend, F/F, Jewish Maximoff Twins, M/M, Romantic Reunions, Vision but also not Vision, Winter Soldier Siblings, everything is going to be sad for a bit but things get better, the maximoff twins would never work for Nazis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenytabris/pseuds/teenytabris
Summary: "Do you remember me?" Steve's voice sounded brittle to even him.Down the other end of this long, cold, empty space, Becca Barnes stared back.--"We hurt a lot of people. This is our chance to set it right," Becca said, pushing the file towards Steve. He opened it, and winced.A photo of a cell, divided down the middle by a brick wall.On one side, a boy, white hair, screaming in pain. On the other side, a girl, brown hair long and greasy, eyes empty.--Steve rescues the Winter Soldiers, but they have people to rescue themselves.
Relationships: Becca Barnes/Wanda Maximoff, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: hold onto me (i'm a little unsteady) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476455
Comments: 17
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~and we're back!~
> 
> Hello everyone! Firstly, thank you so much for the love on the first part of this series. I was overwhelmed by the response, and especially that everyone was so patient/understanding about it possibly being left there. This wouldn't have happened were it not for you guys, and I am ETERNALLY GRATEFUL. 
> 
> Secondly, my plan for this fic is to do Winter Soldier and Age of Ultron, though Ultron will not be involved. Which means that things will be kinda the same but different, and I'm so excited for you guys to see where I take some things!
> 
> Thirdly, the update schedule is going to hopefully be every Sunday, Australian Eastern Standard Time. While I could just upload every time I finish a chapter, that was nearly my undoing last time, and I want to make sure that I have a safety net if I don't write for a bit, so I can at least have something to put up. You can follow me for updates on @stovebuckets on Twitter!
> 
> Lastly, thank you again, and I SO HOPE you guys enjoy this, and that it's worth the wait!  
> <3 <3 <3

“.. _.the disappearance and supposed murder of Sergeant James Barnes, just last week_...”  
  
“...Steve? Steve, please, pick up the phone. I know you’re near it. We’re here for you. Just...don’t lock yourself away. Please? ...it’s Clint, by the way. In case you...yeah. Call me back.”  
  
“.. _.first the sister, now the brother? Who, by the way was in a very public relationship with Captain America_...”  
  
“ _This is why we keep our personal lives offline, or hey, one step further, don’t be around people who willingly throw themselves into danger_...”  
  
“Hey, Steve. It’s Pepper. I just wanted to reiterate that when you’re ready, we’re here for you. And don’t watch the news. All right. Bye.”  
  
“... _starts down a slippery path, first it’s the Avengers, next it will be anyone currently serving, you know_?”  
  
“... _no threats sent to Barnes’ house? None_?”  
  
“Steve? Steve, I know you’re in there. Can I just make sure you’re alive?”  
  
“...what?”  
  
“...Fuck. Sorry, I didn’t mean-”  
  
“I’m here, Natasha. You can go now.”  
  
\--  
  
_“When does that happen?” Bucky asked, eyes still fixed forward._  
  
_“When you’re ready to let it. No one grieves the same, Buck.”_  
  
_Bucky looked up at him. Wait, no...he didn’t, they sat there, Steve holding him for-_  
  
_Bucky squeezed his hand. “Why did you let me go?” He asked, eyes black-_  
  
\--  
  
Steve forced himself awake, gasping, shaking his head, like it would get the images out of his head. But it wasn’t like the images in real life were any better. If it wasn’t his own mind twisting memories, it was the very real memory of standing in that blank grey room, and up on the wall.  
  
“Stop!” The word was forced out through gritted teeth, while he held his head between his hands, squeezing, like that could force him to forget. Like he forgot anything anymore.  
  
Once he felt more awake, and less like he was about to start screaming, he lifted his head. He’d imgrated to the left side of the bed again, pushing away from Bucky’s side. It was odd. The first week he’d spent curled up in the fetal position right there. Now, coming up on a month, he couldn’t stand to be anywhere near it.  
  
He supposed it was good that this was the last time then. After today he’d go back to his cold, empty apartment, to wait out until he was called up to DC.  
  
Steve pulled himself out of bed, went to straighten the sheets, and stopped. His hands twitched a couple of times, and then he started stripping the bed, folding up the sheets messily, and stacking them to one side. The pillows got the same treatment, and then the bed was just a frame and a mattress, ready for when the removalists came. All of his things were already at his apartment.  
  
As for any of B-...any of his things, he didn’t deserve any. Ida would be taking all of them.  
  
He heard someone moving into the kitchen, and sighed. He’d been able to keep out of Ida’s way while she got things together, but today was going to be unavoidable. May as well start now.  
  
He pushed out of his - their - bedroom, and crossed the living room, heading for the kitchen.  
  
Ida was pouring coffee into a cup, and she had a second one sitting there, already steaming. “Morning,” she greeted, holding the mug out to Steve. He took it, somewhat automatically, not expecting the action.  
  
“Morning,” he replied, a little stiffly, and took a sip. She even remembered how he took it. He could feel guilty tears stinging in his eyes, but pushed the feeling away.  
  
They drank their coffee in silence, both looking at the wall. Steve wasn’t sure what to say, and small talk seemed...pointless.  
  
“They’ll be here at nine tomorrow. The removalists,” Ida said, and Steve looked at her. She gave him a small, weak smile. “Will you be here?”  
  
“Oh. No, I’m going back to the Tower tonight. I...I might be called down to DC,” Steve said, feeling like he should apologise. Ida nodded, and took another sip of coffee. “I’ll make sure everything’s okay for them to move, though. Nothing too heavy or-”  
  
“Oh, that’s all right. I’m sure they’re used to moving heavy things. Thank you, Steve. That’s sweet, though,” Ida said, and it didn’t sound patronising. She smiled at him, and it looked a little stronger.  
  
Steve smiled back, feeling guilt stir in his stomach, like he didn’t deserve her being nice. He didn’t, really. It’s his fault this was happening at all.  
  
“I’ve got a couple of friends coming to help. They wanted to- well. They weren’t sure-” Steve tried, stumbling over an explanation.  
  
“Thank you, Steve. It’s nice of you to ask, and them to offer,” Ida said, and made an aborted move, like she was going to pat his arm. He was fiercely glad she didn’t. He could barely hold back his tears as it was. “Have you got everything you wanted to keep?”  
  
Steve frowned. “Yeah, all of my belongings are already at the-” he started.  
  
“No, I mean...anything of theirs? You mattered to them, I know they’d want you to keep something for yourself,” Ida said, cutting him off, and Steve’s throat was suddenly unbearably dry. He put the coffee on the bench, not looking at Ida. “If you wanted any of the photographs. Or anything else, most of the books are going to be donated.”  
  
“That’s...that’s all right. I’ve got- photos. On my phone,” Steve said to his feet. He did not add that they weren’t actually on his phone, but stored somewhere in Tony’s servers, so that Steve couldn’t see them accidentally. He hadn’t returned to Twitter for the exact same reason.  
  
“Steve,” Ida said, and Steve felt her hand gently touch his, and it burned. “I don’t blame you-”  
  
“Thanks for the coffee, Ida. I’ve gotta run to the store, you want anything?” Steve blurted, getting out of the kitchen as quickly as he could, making for the door.  
  
“I wanted to.” Steve stopped. “I wanted someone to blame, someone obvious. But when I thought about it, all I could think about was how much Bucky and Becca would have hated me for that. You’re a good man, and nothing you did caused this. And there’ll be a seat at my dining table if you ever want to visit,” Ida said.  
  
Steve said something, maybe just a noise, he didn’t know, and then darted out the door, nearly crushing the handle.  
  
\--  
  
“What’s the latest?”  
  
“He just keeps muttering ‘blue’, over and over.”  
  
“What’s the importance of that?”  
  
“No idea. Can’t think of anything except the suit. You know, Captain America’s?”  
  
“You showed it to him?”  
  
“Yeah. No change.”  
  
“Step up the wiping then. Every time he says blue, hit him.”  
  
“Yes sir.”  
  
“Try not to sound too pleased about it, Rumlow.”  
  
“I take pride in my work, sir.”  
  
“Less pride, more results. Make sure the doctor knows when he comes back in.”  
  
“Sir.”  
  
\--  
  
Steve hadn’t touched a cigarette since the night before he downed the Valkyrie. He’d forgotten how fucking awful they tasted.  
  
And yet, here he was, on the fire escape of his building, smoking. He could hear Clint and Natasha inside, helping Ida pack books into two piles. He’d already taken apart all the collapsible furniture, and stacked everything ready to move. He felt like he should be back in there, helping, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the faces of their family.  
  
He wondered if the Barnes’ hated him, in the beyond.  
  
“Hey.” Nat slipped down to sit next to him. He hadn’t heard her leave the room. Maybe he was losing his touch.  
  
He nodded at her, and took another drag. It burned, coated his teeth with ash.  
  
“Can I have one?” Nat asked, and he saw her slid the packet out of his pocket, the lighter with it.  
  
“You’ll get sick,” Steve warned, his voice raspy. “You’re not like me.”  
  
Nat just lit the cigarette, breathed in, and then out. “Which means I actually get some enjoyment out of them.”  
  
Steve gave her a look. She smiled, a little ruefully. “I used to smoke them for asthma. Ma couldn’t afford a nebuliser,” Steve said. Not that he actually had to explain anything. “Then they were part of ration packs. Used to give mine away, at the start, but then...nothing seemed to warm you up like them, when you were trekking through the most ball-chilling parts of Europe.”  
  
“Must’ve felt like you’d never see your dick again,” Nat commented, drily.  
  
Steve, to his surprise, laughed. “Not that I had much time to look at it to begin with. You know how much privacy you get during a war? The fact that Peggy and I kissed at all was a miracle.”  
  
“Did she ever see your dick?”  
  
Steve laughed again, the sound punching it’s way out. “What the fuck, Nat?” He said, barely able to stop giggling.  
  
She was grinning, lazily, like a fat cat. “Did she see your bald eagle, Steve?” She said, and Steve doubled over, shoulders heaving.  
  
“Oh, god, fuck you, you are never calling it that ever again,” Steve panted, once he could sit back up, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.  
  
“If you think that one’s bad, you should hear the ones Tony comes up with.”  
  
“I never, ever, want to hear Tony talking about my penis.”  
  
“So, what, you think I enjoy it? The man has a complex,” Nat said, and then she and Steve’s eyes met.  
  
It was a solid ten minutes before they stopped laughing, Steve leaning into her shoulder, her left arm wrapped around him.  
  
“You know he can probably hear everything we’re saying,” Steve said after a moment, enjoying just being held. Nat’s hand was warm as it stroked up and down his spine.  
  
“Yeah, well. He should be less of a joke if he doesn’t want to be the butt of them,” Nat scoffed. Steve smiled, and tucked his head back into her neck.  
  
“You know, I didn’t really expect this from you. The hugging,” he added, after a few more minutes. “I know you’re not...particularly physically affectionate. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”  
  
Nat’s hand paused, and then he felt her kiss his brow. “I’m slow to trust anyone with it. But you need it, and I care about you.”  
  
“Nat-”  
  
“Shh, Steve. Take your time.”  
  
So Steve did.  
  
Eventually Clint came out and joined them, lying his head on Nat’s lap, one hand in Steve’s, and the three of them watched as the last bit of blue was swallowed up by the black.  
  
\--  
  
The Weapon stood outside the Asset’s cell. They’d had to weld steel bars over him, to keep him still. She wondered why the sedative they used on her didn’t work on him. Was he stronger? Perhaps that was why they had forgotten to send her out, or to lock her back away.  
  
She was no longer useful. Or not useful yet. Perhaps she would train the Asset.  
  
She wasn’t allowed to think. She should stop.  
  
“Hey! Thing 1!” Someone yelling. Not her designation, so not her. “Yes, you! What are you doing?” Oh. Thing 1 was her new designation?  
  
“Observing the Asset,” she replied.  
  
“Why? Were you ordered to?”  
  
She wasn’t, but she hadn’t been giving orders to not. She’d held him down earlier today, while they attached the left arm. The voice yelling at her now was the same one who had berated the Asset for his inability to regrow limbs. Was that something she should know how to do? Would that-  
  
Electricity exploded through her, forcing a scream from her mouth, and she fell to her knees, the concrete cracking beneath her.  
  
“Answer me!”  
  
Right. She had thought the answer, not said it. What was the question? It was so hard to concentrate when her body was still twitching with the electricity and the pain. Her left knee throbbed, had she broken it.  
  
“I was observing him,” she guessed.  
  
“You already said that. Why?” Something hard, forceful, slamming into her ribs. She fell onto her side.  
  
She didn’t know how to answer the question.  
  
“You stupid? Gone deaf? Answer me!”  
  
“Rumlow! Enough!” A different voice. Female. Familiar, but from a long time ago. “You break it, you bought it.”  
  
“She’s serumed up, I don’t gotta be careful.”  
  
“You do anything to her, it’s your head. She’s more important than you are.”  
  
“Fucking Christ- Fine. Have your brainless meatsack back. Fucking-” The voice got quieter, and footsteps echoed down the hall.  
  
The other voice sighed. “Weapon? Can you stand?”  
  
The Weapon struggled to her feet, limbs twitching.  
  
“Excellent. Will you tell me why you are here?”  
  
“I was not ordered to not be.”  
  
“I didn’t ask that.”  
  
The Weapon swallowed. Why? Her throat wasn’t dry-  
  
“I don’t know. I...” She trailed off.  
  
“You?” The woman prompted.  
  
“I just wanted to see him,” Becca answered.  
  
Becca? Was that...who was-  
  
The woman sighed. “Come with me, please.” She turned, and began to walk back the way The Weapon came.  
  
“I don’t want to.” What? She hadn’t meant to say that, that was just a thought-  
  
“But you’re going to, aren’t you?” The woman said, and her eyes bored into The Weapon’s.  
  
Who followed her, back towards the Chair.  
  
\--  
  
“Hey, Steve. It’s Bruce. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I- I wish I hadn’t- I...I guess it doesn’t matter now. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I- Steve?”  
  
“Hey, Bruce. Don’t apologise, all right. You didn’t know. None of us did.”  
  
“If I hadn’t-”  
  
“God, you sound like me. Nat and Clint have been telling me not to think like that. It’s hard though. It feels like it loops.”  
  
“Maybe we should start seeing those psychologists Pepper keeps telling us to.”  
  
“She’s a smart woman. More people should listen to her.”  
  
“Very true. I’ll be back in New York in a couple of weeks. It’ll be good to see everyone.”  
  
“I’ll see if I can come back for that.”  
  
“Oh. Where are you now?”  
  
“DC. Just checking out the new apartment with Sharon. Peggy’s niece?”  
  
“Oh. So Nat’s there too?”  
  
“Yeah. And Clint’s on mission, somewhere deep undercover.”  
  
“Tony said he was back in Malibu.”  
  
“And Thor’s back in Asgard.”  
  
“Tower’s gonna feel pretty empty.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, Bruce. It will. But we’re a phone call away.”  
  
“Got it, Steve. Take care of yourself?”  
  
“You too, Bruce. Bye.”  
  
“Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next: Enter Sam Wilson!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry this is a little late, but being an "essential worker" (i work for gamestop, explain that), i've been flat out at work!
> 
> also, sorry if the start is a little disjointed from the rest!

It helped, this new place, in waking up. Steve wasn’t bombarded with memories about the small-but-comfortable two bedroom, nothing lurking around a corner to remind him of- Well. Nothing. He rubbed his hands over his face and climbed out of bed, padding through his still-unfurnished apartment. A few things came across from his floor at the Tower, his books, his art supplies, but the table, chairs, sofa- All of that Sharon got for him.   
  
It made the place feel less like ‘his’, but right now that suited Steve just fine. Detachment was just fine.   
  
\--  
  
Losing days was fine.   
  
\--  
  
Nat dropped into the seat in front of him, and Steve started. She stared at him, and Steve tried not to shrink under her gaze. “Yes, Natasha?”   
  
“You’ve been staring at that coffee cup for twenty minutes,” she said, and Steve looked down. Right. Coffee. To finish reading through these reports on his team.   
  
“So I have. Must’ve been lost in thought.”   
  
Nat stared at him for a few minutes more. Steve began to feel concerned he was stuck here, a butterfly pinned to a wall.   
  
And then Nat sighed. “Sharon and I are coming over tonight. We’ll do dinner, or whatever. It’s her idea, if anyone asks.”   
  
Steve’s hand tightened around his mug. “I’m fine.”   
  
Nat’s look was piercing. “Sure. See you tonight.”   
  
And then she was gone.   
  
\--  
  
Steve looked in the mirror when he got home at 6.   
  
Was it obvious he wasn’t fine?  
  
\--  
  
Sharon practically broke his door down at 8.30pm, Steve laughing when he answered it. “Where’s the fire, Carter?”   
  
Nat rolled her eyes, smiling a little, but Sharon was not deterred. “Not under your ass, go get ready!” She shooed him into his bedroom, and he went, still laughing, though now a little confused. “Something nice! Something that could potentially split off your body if you breathe too hard.” As Steve pulled out his usual jeans and white shirt, he heard two thumps and then a disappointed sigh. “Are these really the only shoes you have?”   
  
“I don’t need more than those, Sharon,” Steve called back.   
  
“Brown, black or trainers. You are giving me nothing to work with, Rogers!” She replied.   
  
There was a knock on the door, and Nat poked her head in.   
  
“Yes, you can come in, I’m decent?” Steve chided, tugging the hem of his shirt down.   
  
Nat rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen more of your chest than I ever wanted to, Captain Abs.” She stepped in, and leaned against the wall next to the dresser. “Sharon wants to take you out.”   
  
“Like on a date or an assassination?”   
  
“I heard that!” Sharon said, sounding closer to the door.   
  
Steve laughed. “Where are you taking me out?”   
  
Nat’s lip quirked, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was a teasing smirk or a sympathetic one. “It’s a gay bar, downtown. Sharon knows the owner, so we thought it’d be the safest place to hang out with you.”   
  
Steve paused, fingers pinching the leather of his favourite brown jacket. “You’re saying that like I’ve never been to a gay bar before.”   
  
“It was more of a...if you’re not ready...” Nat gestured at the apartment. The empty apartment. “People - guys - will probably try something.”   
  
Steve sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Because of the whole ‘superhero’ thing.”  
  
“Because you’re hot, Steve,” Nat said, like he was a stupid child. That made him laugh. “Not that people won’t back off, though. It’s more of just giving you a head’s up.”   
  
Steve pulled his jacket off the hanger, and then stared into his dresser. He wasn’t ready. It hadn’t been enough time, but then again, would it ever be enough time? Would he ever feel like he was? He didn’t think he’d mind if he never was ready again.   
  
Maybe he had been it for Steve.   
  
Steve shrugged into his jacket, and closed the doors. “I’ve never been able to say no to a Carter. Peggy used to rope me into the most ridiculous things,” he said, and smiled at Nat, hopefully comforting her a little.   
  
Nat smiled back, clearly not convinced, but ready to let it go, apparently. “Come on then, Cap, let’s go dazzle the nightlife.”   
  
Sharon sighed the second he walked out of his room, and Steve bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. “I can change-”   
  
Sharon just threw the black shoes back on his rack, playing up the drama. “It’s fine, Steve, I just don’t know what I can do with such a blank canvas and absolutely no paint,” she grumbled.   
  
Steve shrugged. “Usually I’d just burn a small piece of wood. Makes charcoal.” Sharon turned a playful glare on him, and practically threw his boots at him.   
  
“If he turns up smothered to death, I am not to blame,” Sharon said to Nat, who mimed zipping her lips.   
  
\--  
  
The Asset blocked her punch, grabbed her arm, and flipped her onto her back.   
  
She’d almost been expecting that. Telegraphed it, perhaps. She wasn’t supposed to be testing his limits that way, but something in her wanted to see if he would hold back. The answer was clear now, at least.   
  
“Excellent,” one of the handlers said. A man. She couldn’t remember if it was the one who called her ‘Thing One’, and she found she didn’t quite care. It wasn’t as if any of them treated her truly differently.   
  
Her head throbbed. Was she supposed to still know that? There are things she wasn’t allowed to remember. Know...know, not remember.   
  
“Now, Soldier. Kill her,” the voice said, and as fast as the command was given, the metal arm snatched down, and unforgiving fingers clamped down around her throat. She raised her arm to push him off, her other hand aiming for his face. “Don’t fight back,” came the second command, and she went limp.   
  
It didn’t take long for her to start gasping, involuntarily, her vision going spotty. She wasn’t allowed to fight back, so she lay there, fingers digging so hard into the ground, she could feel pins and needles sparking in them. Or was that the lack of oxygen.   
  
She felt ready to slip away, disappear into the black, when she felt the fingers loosen. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to allow some air. She kept still, kept looking near death, to cover for him. And then, another command. “Okay, stop. No reason to continue this through, Soldier. Get back against the wall.”   
  
Hand, gone. And when she blinked her eyes open, gasping in air, feeling the noose around her neck loosen, she could see him against the wall, expression nearly unreadable.   
  
Except for his eyes. The grey had darkened, somehow, almost sucking the blue from them. Was that why he kept saying blue?   
  
Four handlers came in to escort the Asset out, and he didn’t look back. She saw the twitch in his shoulders, though. Like he wanted to.   
  
She heard the crackle of the cattle prod before she felt it, and the effort to not scream took all the air she’d just gained back.   
  
\--  
  
Sharon managed to carry an entire drinks tray back to their tiny booth, through the dance floor, without spilling anything at all. Nat gave her a round of applause, and Sharon curtsied in response.   
  
“That’s the real reason SHIELD scouted me,” she said, slipping in next to Steve.   
  
“Carrying drinks?” He said, smiling in thanks as she handed him...whatever she was also drinking. It was in a tall glass, and smelled strongly of ginger.   
  
“Keeping cool under fire has many meanings,” Sharon replied, and clinked her glass to his.   
  
Nat snorted. “Does it ever!”   
  
Despite his earlier worry, the bar was a lot nicer than his usual haunts had been, and the music wasn’t blaringly loud. It felt comfortable, and that appealed to Steve right now. Especially while he was trying to get used to...this. And maybe the fact that no one had tried to come onto him was helpful. He wouldn’t even know where to start. He’d almost tripped and fallen onto Bu- him.   
  
“Steve? Hey? Earth to Rogers?” Sharon waved a hand in his face, and Steve shook his head of the morose path his thoughts had taken.   
  
“Sorry, just thinking. What’s going on?” He asked, and took a sip of his drink. It tasted like ginger. Was it all ginger?   
  
“Nat was just saying that she wants to see what you’re working with,” Sharon said, winking over at Nat, who gave her a withering look in return.   
  
“Sharon was actually asking you if you knew how to shake it,” she said back, and before the fight could escalate into ‘who could make Steve blush harder’, Steve cut in.   
  
“Nat, if you can teach me to beat you in hand-to-hand, I’m sure you can teach me to shake it,” Steve said, and nudged Sharon when she let out of the most ungodly laugh-snort.   
  
“I hope you dance like the whitest suburban dad ever. Nothing would make me happier,” She said, and Steve nudged her again.   
  
“You’re gonna be a terrible subordinate,” he mock-grumbled.   
  
“Eh. No worse than me,” Nat said, with a lazy smirk, and Steve downed his drink.   
  
“Great,” he groaned, and Sharon chuckled like an evil witch.   
  
She slid back out of the booth and grabbed Steve’s hand. “Come on, no time like the present, Cap. Let’s go!” She grinned far too wide, and Steve grimaced but let himself be dragged out.   
  
“You only just sat down again,” he pointed out.   
  
“Oh, just give her this Steve. You’ll make her happy for years,” Nat said, patting his shoulder.   
  
Sharon dropped his hand once they got a little closer, so she could shimmy her way towards the centre, and the first second Steve tried to follow her, he stepped right into the path of a man holding two beers. Steve knocked straight into his side, sending both glasses flying, thankfully not shattering, but very much no longer full of beer. He grabbed the man just before he fell, and the man grabbed onto him back, probably trying not to slip in the beer puddle Steve created.   
  
“Holy fuck, I am so sorry sir, I- I didn’t even see you,” Steve said, trying to help the man right himself.   
  
“Nah, nah it’s fine, it’s just...” The man looked up, and looked a little taken-aback for a moment. Steve braced himself. “Well. It’s just they were craft beers. You know, like, fifteen bucks each.”   
  
Steve laughed suddenly, and the man grinned, exposing a gap in his teeth. “Oh, I know all about that. Favourite place in Brooklyn was a craft place.”   
  
“So it’d only be fair for you to buy me another, right?” The man said, and Steve laughed again.   
  
“Okay, that was pretty slick.” The man’s hand gripped a little tighter on Steve, and Steve suddenly was hyper-aware of how closer they were standing. “Oh, shit, sorry, I-” He went to step back.   
  
“No, really, it’s okay. It’s actually more than okay,” the man said, but let Steve take a step back.   
  
Okay, Steve knew flirting when it was happening, no matter what anyone chose to believe. And he wasn’t blind, The man was stupidly attractive. Unless his hearing had malfunctioned, which it hadn’t, he could also hear Sharon wolf-whistling.   
  
“I’m Sam, by the way,” the man said, and his eyes did flick down Steve’s body.   
  
“Steve,” Steve said, automatically. “Did you wanna get that beer now?”   
  
“Gimme a second to tell my buddy that he’s gotta refresh himself, and I’m all yours,” Sam said, moving to go past Steve.   
  
Steve made his way to the bar, and ordered two of whatever Sam had bought before, the bartender thankfully remembering the order, and Sam joined him not long after. “There you go, one apology,” Steve said, pushing the glass across. And then looked away when Sam took a drink.   
  
“Bit stuffy in here. You wanna head up to the roof?” Sam asked, and Steve looked at him.   
  
Part of him, the part that he struggles to switch off, started evaluating Sam as a threat. He dutifully ignored that part, and listened to a different one. The one that was trying to strategise whether or not this was what he wanted. Sam was gorgeous, and clearly interested, and in places like this, one night stands were more likely than not.   
  
But did he want that?   
  
“You reckon you can see the stars up there?” Steve asked, leaning on the bar.   
  
Sam smiled. “One way to find out?” He started to walk past Steve, and rested his hand on the base of Steve’s spine for just a moment, and Steve, still questioning, followed him upstairs.  
  
\--  
  
The Weapon didn’t sleep.   
  
She’d been taken back to her room, the featureless walls, the whirring of monitoring machines, where she’d slept for months (years?), but she couldn’t.   
  
He stopped. He stopped before the command was given. Was he rebelling? Did he not want her dead? She supposed that wanting her dead was not the same as obeying orders, but...he stopped. That meant that keeping her alive was more important than following orders. Why? What was she to him?   
  
What was he to her?   
  
There was something, something buried, that thumped at the base of her skull, throbbing. Something screaming to be heard, but the connection wasn’t there. She wasn’t allowed to know, whether she wanted to or not.   
  
And she didn’t know if she wanted answers. Maybe they would just make her a worse Weapon, and that was what she was. Weapons don’t need memories or sympathy.   
  
The darkened grey of his eyes.   
  
What did it mean?   
  
\--  
  
There were a few stars that managed to beat their way through the light pollution, but they were there.   
  
“More than in New York,” Steve pointed out, as he leaned his folded arms on the low wall, Sam putting his back to it. He was close enough that Steve could almost feel his arm brushing on his, but he did keep a little distance. Respectful. Steve appreciated that.   
  
“I was always surprised to see the night sky in New York,” Sam said, and Steve laughed. Sam was good at that, making him laugh.   
  
“The amount of things open and running, me too. Wasn’t always that way,” Steve said, and Sam ‘hmm’ed in reply.   
  
“That’s gentrification for you,” he said, grinning. Steve turned his head to smile back at him.   
  
“Considering I grew up in Brooklyn, yeah. Exactly.”   
  
They just looked at each other for a moment, before Steve turned away. He wasn’t upset by the attention, he probably would’ve enjoyed it in a different situation, but he felt like he was warring with himself. Trapped in his own mind, and he didn’t know what the better option was.   
  
“Hypothetical question.” Sam broke through his whirring brain, and Steve was grateful for the interruption.   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
Sam took a drink of his beer, put it down, and sidled a little closer to Steve. Steve tried not to shiver. “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?”   
  
He was asking. He was genuinely asking, like a gentleman, for permission. Steve couldn’t help the smile.   
  
“I suppose we’ll find out?” He murmured, and Sam’s answering smile was almost sly. That was kinda sexy.   
  
Sam propped himself up a little higher, and gently lay his hand on Steve’s and then leaned up. He wasn’t that much shorter than Steve, but it felt like he was still giving Steve an out. Jesus, this guy was too good. Steve had to thank him for at least that, right?   
  
Steve leaned in the rest of the way, and then their lips met. Sam made a pleased noise, and he leaned up a little more. God his lips were soft, and he was an incredibly gentle kisser. Steve’s hand came up to cup his face, and-  
  
 _“You know what? Actions speak louder than words,” Steve said, and cupped Bucky’s face. He looked confused, like he was about to question what was going on, and Steve was very happy to stop the words by just kissing him, and every nerve in his body lit up. Finally, this was-_  
  
Steve broke away from Sam, dropping his hand back down to his side, squeezing his eyes shut, like that could stop the memories coming back. Fuck, he hadn’t even thought his name since it happened, and now-  
  
A hand on his hand. “Hey, man, breathe, it’s okay. It’s okay. You wanna sit down?” Sam’s voice, though more authoritative. Someone used to giving orders.   
  
As he was being guided to sit, Steve laughed. “Military man?” He asked.   
  
“Yeah, Air Force. How’d you know?” Sam said, and again, there was that calm, commanding tone.   
  
“Your voice. You sound like someone whose usually in charge,” Steve said, and heard Sam’s disbelieving chuckle.   
  
“That is some bullshit. You somehow looked me up right? Background check, all that.” Steve felt Sam put two fingers to his wrist.   
  
“I’m not having a panic attack,” Steve said, and Sam’s fingers withdrew.   
  
“Sorry, force of habit,” he said. Steve felt his glass be pushed into his hand. “Here.”   
  
Steve took a drink, and breath, and opened his eyes. Sam was sitting facing him, and his look was analysing. Steve gave him a thumbs up. “I’m okay.”   
  
“Oh, no doubt. I’m sure you’re a very physically healthy person,” Sam said drily, and he sounded so much like Bu- like him, for a moment, that Steve’s laugh came out a little choked.   
  
Fucking hell. He was not ready for this. Why did he think he was?   
  
“I’m sorry, Sam, it’s not you-” Steve started, and Sam waved it away.   
  
“Yeah, I know. Not to brag, but my technique doesn’t usually have this response.”  
  
“Then I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate it more,” Steve said, and Sam’s smile was warm.   
  
He looked away for a moment, a furrow in his brow, and then he took a breath. Steve just sat and waited.   
  
“I lost my partner a few years ago,” Sam said, and Steve’s heart sank into his stomach. Sam turned to look back at him. “Riley. He was in the Air Force too. Our op went bad, and he went down. I couldn’t get to him.” Sam’s voice was steady, but no less emotional.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Steve said, feeling stupid for not knowing what else to say.   
  
“It’s a standard risk, being in the military. Any branch. But the worst part of it was that I was right there. Right there, and I couldn’t save him,” Sam said, and Steve’s chest ached. He forcefully shoved down his perfect memory of the same night that happened for him. “And then you get people going ‘it wasn’t your fault’, ‘you did everything you could’, blah blah blah. Funny how that’s never comforting, right? Because there was always something you could do better, or faster, or- well. You get it.”  
  
Steve nodded. He did.   
  
“So, I’m not gonna say any of that. Instead I’m gonna say, one: stop forcing yourself to be over it,” Sam said, resting his hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve swallowed, hard, around the lump forming in his throat. “And two: grieving is a process. You’re learning, not to get over them, but to remember more of the good. Only the good, if you can manage it. And whether that takes six months or twenty years, that’s your business. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Hell, you’re a Captain. Just tell them to shut up.” With that, Sam squeezed his shoulder, and sat back.   
  
Steve, despite the choking feeling of tears, and the mingled guilt and anger forming in lumps in his stomach, laughed. “Christ,” he said, rubbing his face. “Thank you, Sam.”   
  
“It’s nothing.” He let Steve sit in quiet for a moment, but spoke again after a few moments. “And while I did have different ideas when we came up here-” Steve looked up at him to raise his eyebrows, and Sam shrugged, unrepentant. “Listen, sometimes you just want a man who can throw you around. Sue me.” Steve laughed again. “It is a pretty nice night. And I wouldn’t mind shooting the shit.”   
  
“What, you want the inside info on the Avengers? Is Tony Stark really like that?” Steve asked, and leaned back against the wall, feeling a little more at ease.   
  
Sam pointed at him. “Yes. But not now. I actually wanted to ask what your favourite movie was, but you can’t say anything that came out before 1945.”   
  
Steve scoffed. “So, you have an advantage to tell me what I should watch?”   
  
“Don’t avoid the question, Steve,” Sam shot back.   
  
Steve laughed, incredulously. “I-”   
  
_He moved his gaze up to Bucky, and his breath became a little shaky when he saw him looking right back at him, the flashing lights of the lightsabers glowing on his face._  
  
Steve sighed, and felt the exhale leave him a little lighter than he felt before. “Bucky’s favourite was Star Wars,” he said, and felt the name like lead in his mouth, but it felt good to say something about him. Something that kept him real. “And Becca’s was Alien. I didn’t know why they watched so much sci-fi.”  
  
“Oh, thank God, I thought you were gonna say Saving Private Ryan or some shit,” Sam said, groaning in relief. When Steve started laughing hard enough to double over, he jabbed him. “No, I’m serious, I thought for one second that you were gonna be like ‘the good ol’ days’ and say Gone With The Wind.”   
  
“What, you’re gonna tell me Clark Gable’s not considered hot anymore?” Steve said, words fighting through laughter.   
  
“He never was! He has never been hot!” Sam declared, and Steve nearly toppled over.   
  
\--  
  
the man  
the man in the suit- no the suit isnt important  
the man in the blue suit- no not that  
the man with blue eyes-  
  
yes  
  
blue  
  
where is he  
  
\--  
  
Steve wrapped an arm around Sharon as they walked up the sidewalk to their apartment, Sharon yawning. “I am not 21 anymore. How the fuck did I use to stay up until sunrise?”   
  
“And people call me old,” Steve mock-grumped, and got an elbow to his ribs in response.   
  
“You are old, Steven,” Sharon said, sleepily.   
  
“Would you like me to carry you the rest of the way, Sharon?” Steve asked, and pretended to be hurt by the second nudge.   
  
“Shut it.” They kept walking in companionable silence, until the were at the door, and Sharon was fumbling with the front door key. “You know, you didn’t have to come home with me. You looked pretty cozy with that guy.” Her attempt at a casual tone was laughable.   
  
Steve shrugged. “He’s nice. Might see him again for coffee.” Sharon looked over her shoulder to look at him. “Not like that. I don’t think- I don’t know that I want that. Yet.”   
  
Sharon got the door unlocked, and propped it open with her foot, twisting to look at Steve. “Then I think it’s awesome you made a friend,” she said, and Steve smiled at her.   
  
“Thanks, Carter.”   
  
“Any time, Rogers. Now get your butt in here, it’s past curfew.”   
  
“God, you are a Carter.”   
  
Steve did what she said.   
  
\--  
  
Whether it was the next day, the next week, or the next month, the Weapon had no idea.   
  
But she found herself standing outside the Asset’s room. He was awake this time, and was staring at her in turn. She wondered if he could hear her, as separated as they were, by wall and glass.   
  
“Can you hear me?” She asked, quiet. Quiet enough that no one passing would be able to make it out as more than a hiss.   
  
The Asset nodded.   
  
“Why did you stop?”   
  
The Asset cocked his head.   
  
“You stopped before they told you to.”   
  
The Asset’s eyes darkened, like they had then, but he said nothing. Could he speak? Something to find out, so that she could facilitate conversation another way.   
  
“Can you speak?”   
  
The Asset looked away from her, eyes flicking up to the corner. Being monitored? That might explain it. He looked back to her, and shook his head.   
  
Find another way to speak. Understood.   
  
It took her ten minutes to find the cable that connected the monitor, and set the information to loop for ten minutes. She went back to the Asset’s room, and held up ten fingers.   
  
The Asset nodded. And then-  
  
“Not worth killing you. Would impact future missions.”   
  
His voice was...familiar. But she hadn’t heard it before. Had she?   
  
“They don’t need both of us,” she replied.   
  
The Asset flinched, and then look confused. Well. Her too.   
  
“Why do you say blue?” She asked.   
  
“Hey!” A voice, down the hall. She’d been found.   
  
The Asset looked a little panicked, but the Weapon stepped closer to the glass. “Tell me.”   
  
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m trying to find out why.”   
  
“I hope you find out,” she said, and then the cattle prod was jammed into her side.   
  
As she convulsed, she thought she heard someone scream ‘Becca’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: the winter siblings are on a mission


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought I wasn't gonna get this chapter out on time, because my procrastination was in OVERDRIVE today (I CLEANED rather than WROTE and I do not like cleaning), but here it is!
> 
> The Winter Soldier Siblings go on their first mission together, and meet some other super-powered siblings!

Dr Sophie Friedrick was sweating bullets. 

She’d gotten to the conference room early, trying to prepare herself to explain how good the progress had been despite the setbacks, but every report she’d laid out for Director Pierce had been damning. In big, bold letters, they were losing control. And, as she had been the one to bring in the brother, rather than just be satisfied with the incredible success with the sister, it was her head on the chopping block. Figuratively, she hoped. 

She’d waited a solid 45 minutes before Pierce had entered, but after they’d exchanged polite greetings, there had been nothing but silence. He was going through each report, occasionally frowning, but other than that, giving away nothing. It was making Sophie want to scream. 

It didn’t make it any better that Brock Rumlow, the ass, was standing by the door, grinning at her like he couldn’t wait to bludgeon her head, like he did her subjects. Bastard. And they chose him to go undercover with Captain Rogers? She couldn’t think of a single person who would be more easily sniffed out. 

“Tell me, doctor-” Pierce’s voice split the silence, and sent a cold zing of panic up Sophie’s spine. She stood straighter, almost automatically. “-how many successful missions did we have with the first subject?” 

“Fourteen, sir,” Sophie answered. He already knew that, surely. His sign off was needed on any Winter Soldier mission. 

“Fourteen. And was anything amiss in those missions that made you want to bring in the second subject?” 

Oh, god. He was going to blame her. “No, sir.”

“No out-of-line behaviour? No disobeying orders?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Then why, tell me, did we bring in the brother? It seems to have caused nothing but issues with a Soldier that functioned perfectly well.” Pierce’s voice was icy, and Sophie was already planning her obituary in her head. 

“My team and I believed there might be some worth in having a back up. To avoid a situation like the Vietnam War,” Sophie said, Jesse’s words sounding weak now that she was in front of the Director. 

Pierce nodded, like he was agreeing. “Ah, yes, I remember now. You did have us convinced, Dr Friedrick, of the merits of that. It seems now, however, that the cons are far outweighing the pros.”

“It does seem that way, sir,” Sophie said, hearing her voice wobble. Jesus, pull it together, Sophie!

Brock’s grin got a little more savage, and she saw his hand drift down to his holster. Fucking christ, was she going to get shot here? In a conference room? 

“But you say in this final report, you have hope for the project continuing?” 

Sophie felt a tiny spark of hope spark in her chest. “Yes! Yes, sir, I do.” 

Pierce flipped the report over, to the pictures of the Asset choking the Weapon. “Please, go into detail.” 

Sophie practically tripped over herself, eager to prove she hadn’t fucked Hydra’s science division for good. “We’ve noticed that they will both obey commands to attack the other, with no recognition between either of them for the duration. The Weapon will also ignore the Asset while under the control of the words. It seems that these lapses, where their memories return, seem to happen most when the other is attacked in front of them. A protective instinct.” 

Pierce’s brow seemed to smooth out, the frown gone, and Sophie could’ve cried with joy. “So, should they both be out on mission-”

“That urge to protect will come into play against the people attacking them, should there be any. If we can also manipulate events so that they believe whoever their target is will hurt the other, they will become ferocious in their task.” Sophie pushed another set of photographs to Pierce, of just last week, when the Weapon had been electrocuted in front of the Asset, and he had nearly broken through the glass to get to her. 

Pierce looked at the photograph, and Sophie nearly saw him smile. “This is the kind of thinking that will win us the fight, doctor,” he said, and Sophie could’ve just burst into tears. She managed to control herself, however, merely nodding. “Keep them apart while in base, and no more testing how far they will go to protect the other. We don’t want to risk anything.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“And boost the power in those wipes more. Blank slates will take the words better.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And, doctor.” Pierce looked up, and Sophie didn’t dare to even breathe. “I won’t be coming in for another one of these talks. I want your results to do the talking. Not you.” 

There it was. Do your job, Sophie, or you’ll be another presumed-suicide somewhere in DC.

“Yes, sir. You’ll not hear another thing from me.” 

Pierce rapped the table once, and nodded at her. He left, then, and Brock followed him out. 

Sophie flopped into a chair, trying to calm her racing heart. This is what she wanted. This is what she was born to do. She was going to make the best goddamn Winter Soldiers Hydra had ever produced. 

She stood, collected her files, and went back to work. 

\--

The first few moments after a wipe, the Weapon was reduced to her most basic senses. 

She smelt smoke, burnt skin.

The light was too bright in her eyes. 

Sound was muffled, like it was under water.

And then, as it had always been, things became clear and sharp, and she could feel her limbs responding to commands she hadn’t given them, but that made sense. Her body was not hers. Her body was property, she just lived inside of it. 

“Soldier?” The woman’s voice. The most long running one. 

“Yes.” The word sounded clear, but it felt like it had been taken from her, like she had not made the choice. She wasn’t to make choices, unless no handler was nearby. 

“You have a mission.” 

She felt as if she should be relieved, that she was not being replaced. The only thing she felt, though, was cold acceptance. “Yes.” 

“You’re being dropped in the Czech Republic. You are to escort an extraction to Sokovia. You will not interact with the package being transported. You will listen to the orders of Baron Von Strucker, your handler for this mission. You will not allow the package to be damaged, destroyed or otherwise harmed. Am I understood?”

“Yes.” 

The woman’s face came into view, blonde hair pulled back severely, blue eyes piercing. The Weapon felt a surge of hate so powerful, she was surprised by it. The woman’s mouth pulled into a smile. Interpreting her surprise as fear, the Weapon supposed. 

“You will be accompanied by the other Soldier. I expect you to show him how to get the job done.” 

“Yes.” 

The woman pulled away, and a second person, a man, handed a file to the Weapon. She took it. 

“You will read that now. Memorise it. You’re being sent out in one hour.” The woman left, a few others in white coats following. The handlers, the ones in black with the cattle prods, remained.

The Weapon did as she was ordered, and read the file. 

\--

The Weapon did not see the Asset until their craft had landed far back from Strucker’s position, and they were both escorted out. He looked no different than before, but like her, his face was covered. The only part of him visible was his eyes, the grey leeched of blue. 

The orders given to them were reiterated, and then the Soldiers were on their own. The Weapon checked their position, and then lead the way, the Asset falling in behind, his hands on a rifle. The Weapon had guns of her own, but she’d only take them out when needed. She preferred having her hands free. 

They paused as they reached the border of the facility. Nothing on the outside spoke to what the building truly housed, but without a doubt, this was it. They still needed to be cautious. 

The Weapon turned to look at the Asset, and once he made eye contact, he nodded. He lifted his rifle, tucking the end into his shoulder, the scope focused on the doorway. As the Weapon crossed the open space, she could feel his eye on him, and it settled something. Something that she’d never felt on a mission before. 

Perhaps he was not meant to be her replacement.

The door opened before she reached it, four armed people exiting. All had guns raised at her. She stopped moving. 

“That’s one of them, right? The Soldiers?” The woman’s voice was low, and the Weapon realised that they didn’t know how far she could hear. Perhaps that was information not shared to them. The Weapon wondered if she should offer that information. 

“Where’s the other one?” Someone asked, and then focus returned to her. “Where’s the other Soldier?” 

“Watching.” 

“For what?” 

“Enemies.” 

The man scoffed. “You two comedians?” The Weapon didn’t know how to answer that, so she didn’t. “Call him in.” He turned to his fellows as the Weapon turned enough that the Asset could see her face in scope, and gestured minutely with a nod. “Let Strucker know the bodyguards are here.” 

By the time he turned back to look at the Weapon, the Asset was beside her, rifle stowed. He seemed surprised, but didn’t say anything. They were informed of their speed, at least. No doubt their strength too. 

The guards stepped aside, watching the Soldiers warily, so the Weapon took that as their cue to walk inside. The Asset dropped back behind her, once again. A good strategy. 

The man who had called out to her stepped up beside her, to lead the way into the facility. It seemed, for all intent, similar to an office building inside. Which, considering the surrounds of forest and ruins, was not the most appropriate disguise. It was not her job to judge the decisions of Hydra, only carry out their orders, so she remained silent. 

The man led them into an elevator, the other guards accompanying them. Not that any of them would be able to take the Soldiers down, should they- what was she thinking? Those weren’t mission parameter. She was here to obey, as was the Asset. That was it. 

She made the slightest shake of her head, and felt the Asset step closer, nearly pressing into her side. Which was an interesting response, and strangely familiar. She wouldn’t react to it, though. It was not in mission parameters. 

The elevator let out deep underground, into a wide room, three doorways branching off it. The main room seemed to be the actual heart of the base. The Weapon recognised some of the set up from previous Hydra bases she had been to. A few of the screens were set up to monitor what looked like readouts from heart beats, blood pressure- more Soldiers? 

“I’ll get Strucker. You two stay here,” the man said, directing the ‘two’ at the Soldiers, who stopped moving immediately. He seemed disturbed by that, but moved on quickly enough. Professional. “You lot stand guard.” The other guards moved to stand around them, loosely. The Weapon wondered, once again, at the logic of that, and stopped that thought before it could go any further. 

The Soldiers stood and waited, as instructed, but the guards seemed restless. One of them, the woman, whispered to her closest fellow. “Jesus, they’re tall, aren’t they?” 

“Built like trucks. Did the serum really do all of that?” Another whispered back. 

“You saw the photos of her beforehand right? Fucking skeleton. Now look at her.” The woman sounded admiring. 

“Wonder if they’ll make it standard issue. Wouldn’t mind getting up over six feet, putting on some extra muscle.” 

“Yeah, you get all of that and then they suck all the personality out of you. Wouldn’t covet that too much.” The woman snorted. 

And the Weapon turned to stare at her. What did she mean, suck the personality out? The Weapon had always been a shell. Hadn’t she? 

“Metz...Metz-” The woman hadn’t noticed the Weapon staring at her, but the man had, and was prodding her with the butt of his gun. The woman - Metz? - turned, and her eyes turned wide and terrified. She feared her? Or perhaps feared telling the Weapon something she wasn’t to know. 

“Did you hear that?” Metz asked, sounding shaky, but kept eye contact. Huh. Some bravery. 

The Weapon didn’t answer her, and turned her head back to face the door the other man had left through. 

“I’m gonna shit myself,” Metz whispered. 

“Just hope she doesn’t bring it up with Strucker.” The man didn’t sound particularly supportive. 

Not mission parameters. Consider personality sucking and Metz later. 

Soon, the man returned, with Von Strucker in tow. The Weapon recognised Strucker from the photo in her file. Though, in the photo, he seemed sure, in control. Now he approached with frantic, furious energy. A man who has lost the control he so carefully cultivated. 

“We are behind schedule,” was his first words to the Soldiers. “Your mission has changed. Follow me.” 

As quickly as he had stormed into the room, he turned and stormed out, the Soldiers following behind. They had been told to follow his orders. If he wished to change the mission, that was his prerogative.

“What were you told of what you are guarding?” Strucker barked out suddenly. 

“Nothing,” the Weapon answered. 

“Nothing. Of course. They delay is from them.” Strucker paused, and turned. The Assest only just stopped before walking into the Weapon. “You will be wiped, of course, following this mission, but I’m sure I do not need to tell you to not ask questions?” 

“We don’t ask questions.” 

Strucker looked away from the Weapon, to the Asset, who looked back. Blankly. “Does that one talk?” He pointed at him, directing his words to one of the guards. 

“I can,” the Asset said, making everyone but the Weapon jump. She felt strange at that, something like...pride? Was that the word?

“What was it you said, Daniels? Comedians?” Strucker said, and one of the men nodded. Strucker’s lip curled down. Anger? Embarrassment? “Make a note of it. Send it to Friedrick and her team. We’ve got one lot resisting, we won’t have two.” 

The Weapon didn’t know what any of that meant, but she took it to mean that the Asset should not speak any more. She looked at him, he nodded, and fell back behind her once Strucker started off again. 

“Our two residents are proving too strong for the collars that have kept them docile so far. They aren’t strong enough to get free, but strong enough that I feel it is not safe to allow my men inside. You two will restrain them, though do try not to damage them too much,” Strucker said while they walked, and eventually they came to a stop in front of a door, bordered on each side by huge windows. Inside, right up against the other wall, were two box-like cells. In one, a curled over figure in one corner, long, greasy brown hair spilled over them, enough to hide their face. In the other, a boy, perhaps a little over 20, stood, limbs twitching occasionally, glaring at them under his frizz of white hair. 

“The package is people?” The Weapon asked. 

“You were told not to ask questions,” Strucker replied. The Weapon nearly braced herself for the blow of a cattle prod, but managed to remain standing. “Those are the subjects of my experiment. You will restrain them so that we can incapacitate them.” Strucker looked at her, as if to dare her to ask how, but the Weapon kept her look on the two in their cells. He seemed appeased by that. “Let them in. Prepare sedation.” 

The door opened, and the Soldiers stepped inside, making their way to the cells. The boy was stirred into movement, bashing himself against the wall between him and the other subject, lips forming a word the Weapon didn’t understand. 

The other subject did, and unfolded themselves, revealing a girl. She shared so many features of the boy that they had to have been related. For some reason, there was an ache inside the Weapon she had no name for. There had been no fight yet. She was not injured. And that was the only reason for that. 

The girl stepped closer to the glass front of her cell, and the Weapon could see that she also shared her brother’s fury. 

“We’re opening the cells.” A voice over the PA, not accented, so not Strucker. “Stand by.” 

As one, the Soldiers moved into ready positions. No intel, but it was clear that these two were powerful enough to cause concern against handlers. No matter. The Weapon had faced worse. 

And then, the glass on the cells lowered- and the boy was gone. He was there, and then he was just- 

The Asset grunted, and the Weapon saw a grey-blue blur knock into him, and then all of a sudden the boy was back, sprawled across the ground. 

“PIETRO!” The girl screamed, and then the Weapon had to drop to the ground, as bricks from the wall ripped their way free, and sped towards her. If the Weapon couldn’t see the matching red clouds around the bricks and the girl’s hands, she would have never thought to think it was her. 

The Asset pulled the boy back, keeping his arms firmly held behind his back, yet the boy still struggled feebly. The Weapon left him to the Asset, and made for the girl-

Who was now aiming her bricks at the Asset, and screaming at him to let ‘Pietro’ go. The Asset was managing to dodge them, while also keeping a tight hold on the boy, but the Weapon would not use him as a distraction. Forgoing tactic, she simply ran at the girl, knowing she was at least fast enough to dodge whatever she threw at her. 

Yet, when the Weapon was almost close enough to reach out, the girl turned to her, hands raised in front of her, and made a small, jerky movement with one, red tendrils leaking out from it- 

And the Weapon stopped. She had not been the one to decide it, but she had. She had stopped, barely two metres from the girl. She stared up at her, watching, confused, at the slow, shuddery movement of her hand, and the intent way deep brown eyes stared into hers.

“What are you doing?” The Weapon asked, unable to stop herself. 

“Who are you?” The girl asked in return, a furrow in her brow, like the answer should’ve been obvious. 

“I don’t know,” the Weapon replied, and that was pulled from her without her forming even the thought. 

The girl stepped closer, and she didn’t look furious anymore. The Weapon had a thought to flinch, but the mission-

“Forget your mission. Don’t you want to remember who you are?” The girl said, and the Weapon realised that the whispers in her mind, the way she was obeying the girl, was because it was coming from her. She was- She was making the Weapon weak- “Not weak. Awake.” The girl’s voice was desperate...why? The fog in the Weapon’s brain was muddling things, if it just stopped, she could think clearly- “I can help you, I can find your na-” 

The Weapon broke through the fog, and punched the girl before she could finish the sentence, and was quick to catch her before her head hit the concrete. She paid no attention to the frightened screaming of a new name, ‘Wanda’, from the boy, and instead checked the girl’s pulse and breathing. 

She had damaged the experiment. There would be a punishment. But in that moment, where the girl seemed poised to break...something, inside the Weapon, the one thing that kept her mission focused. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. 

And she could never tell anyone that it was something she knew she wanted. To break that one thing. 

She lifted the girl into her arms, making sure her head was supported, while the Asset pulled the boy up. He was drowsy with fatigue, and yet still fought every step, calling out that name, over and over, interspersed with various insults directed at the Soldiers. The Weapon felt that same ache in her gut, and it made her look to the Asset, who had a look in his eyes like he knew how she felt. Dangerous. 

A few handlers swarmed the boy, who directed as many insults at them as he did the Soldiers, until they had sedated him, and he slumped in the Asset’s arms. He was taken away, tied down to a gurney, 

Another gurney was brought for the girl, and the Weapon was careful when she lay her on it. She had the sudden urge to gently push her hair from her face, but that was not necessary for mission completion. The girl did not need to see and so would not care about the hair in her eyes. 

“She had controlled you, hadn’t she?” Strucker stood beside the Weapon, looking at her intently. She made sure to keep her blank look. 

“She did.”

“And rather than fall prey to her, you attacked her.” 

The Weapon dropped her eyes to the glint of the Hydra skull on Strucker’s chest. “I did.”

“I told you not to damage her.” 

“I- My intention was to-” The Weapon stopped. Excuses would not change this outcome. She simply stood and waited. 

“Friedrick will be happy to hear of your loyalty.” The Weapon looked up, knowing that shock was in her eyes, but unable to contain it. Strucker’s look was pleased, but calculating. “The girl does not have your dedication yet. She will, but right now, she would have used to free herself, giving you false hope and falser thoughts. You resisted, and stayed true. Impressive, Soldier.” 

The Weapon nodded, unsure if this was a trap, or a test. 

Strucker seemed further pleased with her silence, and so turned to leave the room. The Asset took up place behind the Weapon, once again. “Oh. One last question.” Strucker turned back, and so the Soldiers stopped following. He trained his look solely on the Weapon. “It was not in your file that you spoke Romanian.” 

The Weapon thought back to speaking with the girl, and- Had she been? “I spoke Romanian?” 

“Yes. Near fluently, from what I could hear. Not that I speak it myself, but you can tell with language, sometimes. In the way someone speaks.” He gave her a scanning look, and the Weapon felt a kind of dread, like she had given away something she was not meant to. “Curious.” 

He left, and unsure of what else to do, the Soldiers followed. 

\--

The transportation had no issues along the path to the ruined Castle. 

The Soldiers were picked up the following morning.

\--

The handlers kept to themselves within the plane, talking and laughing further along. The Soldiers were still kept separate, sitting on opposite sides of the craft. The Weapon was lost to her thoughts, which she was not allowed, and she knew it, but she still could not pull her thoughts from brown, furious eyes, that turned into fierce determination. 

A voice, whispered, and so quiet that only she could hear it, stirred her from her thoughts. “I could understand it. When you spoke.” The Weapon looked up, and the Asset was looking at her intently, the grey of his eyes lit by...something. It made him look less dead. 

The Weapon kept her voice as quiet as his. “Why would we know how to speak it?” 

“I don’t know.” The Asset’s brow furrowed, just slightly. “But they do.” 

The Weapon’s heart thudded at the strange tone in his voice, like he was trying to convey...something. But it was something the Weapon would not dare to hear. If they were lucky, only the chair waited when they landed, and not punishment. 

She let her head fall back down, so that she wasn’t looking at the Asset’s eyes. 

They did not speak again. 

\--

This time, the Asset stood outside the Weapon’s cell. She had spent longer in the chair than him, and he could not understand why. She had done her mission, better than even him. She had obeyed. 

She looked smaller in sleep, her short hair still managing to creep across her face. 

An image of her, even smaller yet, dressed in red, with big, dark shadows under her eyes came to his mind, the pain of it making him gasp. 

That hadn't truly been her...had it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wonder how Steve's doing?


End file.
